


for my precious enabler uwu

by digirhys



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Oviposition, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4524579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digirhys/pseuds/digirhys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HERE YOU GO YOU FUCKING SINNER</p><p>LOOK WHAT YOU HAVE MADE ME WRITE WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Penkoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penkoon/gifts).



Jack tells him not to ask questions, so he doesn’t. Rhys follows his partner dutifully down to the experimental labs on Helios without so much as batting an eyelash. Rhys is used to it by now, being shown Jack’s odd little ‘experiments’, usually in the form of poor, slagged Pandoran wildlife. Today, though, something is different about the man. There’s a devilish excitement burning behind his eyes and an eagerness to the way he moves that, against his better judgement, has Rhys curious as to what exactly Jack has in store this time.

 

Jack finally stops in front of a set of heavy steel doors, keying in his access code and ushering Rhys inside and commanding the few scientists inside to leave, which they promptly do with a great deal of cowering. Rhys furrows his brow somewhat when Jack shuts the door behind them, sealing them both inside.

 

“Jack? What did you want to show me?” he questions softly, crossing his arms and shifting his weight anxiously from one foot to another. The CEO grins wolfishly, a predatory gleam to his expression that sends a shiver up Rhys’s spine.

 

“That’d ruin the surprise, cupcake,” Jack all but purrs, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction as he proceeds to a large steel container to the side of the room. Rhys swears he can hear a soft shifting sound coming from the crate, but with the soft humming emanating from the vents it’s hard to tell. He hangs back as Jack circles the container, placing his palms against the edges sealed lid.

 

“ _This_ ,” Jack bellows, gesturing grandly at the plain, silver box, “is a little…pet project I’ve been workin’ on. You’re here to help me give it a test run, so to speak.”

 

Rhys watches as Jack gives the lid a firm shove, grunting with the effort of shifting it off the container. It falls to the floor with a crash that echoes around the small room, making the younger man flinch. He rubs at his left arm through his sleeve, trying to subdue the goosebumps that have risen across his skin.

 

“I don’t understand…”

 

“I didn’t ask you to understand. Now come over and say ‘hello’, kitten.”

 

Rhys hesitates, eyeing Jack carefully for some sign, some hint of what to expect. What he receives is an aggravated rolling of eyes and the sharp snap of Jack’s fingers before he beckons Rhys closer. He obeys, closing the short distance with just a few steps and placing his hands on the cold metal edges of the container. He almost screams.

 

Rhys tries to jump back but Jack’s hand is around his wrist instantly, just firm enough to keep the lanky man in place. He barks out a vicious laugh and Rhys’s mismatched eyes jump from Jack’s gleeful expression to the mass of _tentacles_ writhing in the dark container.

 

“Jack what the _fuck_ is that?!” he cries, stilling in his attempted escape. Jack sneers viciously, squeezing Rhys’s wrist once in warning before releasing him, only to circle the crate and stand at Rhys’s side.

 

“I told you. A ‘pet’ project,” he states matter-of-factly, clapping Rhys on the back. “It’s some ridiculously fucked up hybrid of thresher and shuggurath DNA or something like that. Completely harmless though. Yanno..mostly.”

 

“That’s _disgusting_ , why are you showing me this?” Rhys scrunches up his nose, grimacing at the container as a stray tentacle sidles its way up and out of the container, draping itself over the edge. It reaches out and it takes all of Rhys’s self-control not to slap the appendage away as it brushes over the back of his hand.

 

“Now that’s not very nice, just think of how frikkin’ ugly you look to it!” Jack laughs again, ducking in to press a firm kiss to Rhys’s temple and squeeze him reassuringly on the shoulder. “C’mon now it’s not gonna bite. And this’ll be fun, I promise. Would I lie to you?”

 

 _Yes,_ he wants to snap, but he huffs irritably instead, his metal hand snaking up to grab the front of Jack’s vest and pull him in for a chaste kiss that swiftly gives way to something rougher, more needy. Rhys knows he’s going to lose before he’s even begun fighting, so he settles back to enjoy the ride instead. He hisses out a sharp ‘ _Get on with it_ ’ and that’s all the permission Jack needs.

 

He makes short work of Rhys’s clothing, leaving the attire in a crumpled heap on the floor much to Rhys’s infinite annoyance. Rhys shivers against the chill of the air, pressing closer to Jack in an effort to leech warmth from the CEO’s body. He lifts his hands to the buckles on Jack’s vest only to have the powerful man snatch up his wrists in firm grips.

 

“Ah ah,” Jack scolds, cooing patronizingly as Rhys’s face flushes red. “I’m here for the show, pumpkin.”

 

Rhys doesn’t receive any more warning before he’s shoved backwards, hips catching on the edge of the crate as he topples backwards into a warm nest of slick limbs. He screeches loudly, half horror and half indignation as Jack chuckles darkly, pulling over a chair and settling himself down comfortably, all the smugness of the cat that ate the canary plastered across his damn face.

 

A vivid color has painted itself across Rhys’s cheeks as he scrambles upright, yelling and whining loudly in disgust as he tries to heft himself from the crate. His host, however, is not so eager to let this new source of warmth roam free. Strong appendages find their way around the length of Rhys’s long legs, stopping him from slinging himself over the edge.

 

He grimaces at the slick sensations that the wandering tentacles leave, damp trails not unlike tongues that leave him shivering against the cold. The tentacles themselves are shockingly warm, pleasantly so even, and Rhys finds himself relaxing into the roaming touches that travel up his back, pushing him forward until he’s bent against the side of the crate, hands desperately clutching at the edge.

 

“Jaaack,” he whines, shifting as his feet struggle to find traction against the bottom of the crate. The _creature_ whose space he has invaded is almost entirely supporting his weight and he can’t say he’s complaining. He would’ve slipped and cracked his jaw on the lip of the crate by now, otherwise. The CEO ignores the soft plea, giving Rhys an absolutely lecherous smirk.

 

“Gotta say, it’s a good look on you, kitten.”

 

Rhys didn’t think he could blush any darker, yet once again Jack proves him wrong. He opens his mouth to spit a clever insult only to be silence by a curious grasping around his cock that elicits a soft ‘ _oh_ ’ from the leggy man. He shudders once, huffing out a strained breath as he lets his shoulders relax, easing into the monster’s pulsating grip. Another squeeze and a soft tug and Rhys groans softly, pressing his hips gently down into the pressure, encouraging it.

 

“Atta boy,” Jack purrs, sliding back into the chair and spreading his legs as he watches his partner squirm.

 

Rhys whines at a particularly rough squeeze, canting his hips forward as the tentacle slides and pumps along his length, pulling needy sounds from the young male as he rocks himself into the pleasant motion. Whatever substance the creature secretes slicks along Rhys’s dick, easing the movement until he’s left a whimpering mess, swollen and dripping pre-cum. The tentacle, seemingly pleased with its work, releases Rhys and continues its wandering up his chest, pulling a desperate moan from his lips that has Jack leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

 

The tentacles lave over Rhys’s body, up his legs and back, along his neck and arms, pulling absolutely pitiful noises from him. Rhys is too turned on to be as embarrassed as he should be. A slick pressure between his ass cheeks makes him gasp, hips bucking forward away from the sensation. A dark chuckle leaves Jack’s parted lips as he sits back in the chair, blatantly palming himself through the front of his jeans.

 

“’s alright, cupcake. It’s not gonna hurt ya,” he breathes, his voice a low rumble that does unspeakable _things_ to Rhys’s knees. The young man whimpers and nods, hanging his head and easing back against the tentacle pressing at the tight ring of muscle. The slick appendage jolts forward and Rhys yells in surprise at the sudden intrusion.

 

He gasps sharply as the thick tentacle pumps into him, leaving him little room to adjust to the sudden stretch and burn that accompanies it. A shameful moan passes through Rhys’s lips and he barely registers Jack’s own deep groaning. He lifts half-lidded, mismatched eyes only to be met with the sight of the Hyperion president fisting himself shamelessly, stroking his own cock over as he watches Rhys with hungry eyes.

 

“Look at you, such a pretty little toy,” he growls, lips curling around his teeth in a dangerous smile as Rhys whines and groans in response, offering Jack a jolting nod of his head. It takes a concentrated amount of effort from Jack not to stride across the room and steal Rhys away to fuck the man senseless himself.

 

After what seems like hours a tentacle works its way back up to Rhys’s dick, curling around him with a pleasant warmth that draws a gasp of outright relief from the man’s chest. It pumps him slowly, leaving him gasping and bucking into the damp heat for more friction, only to be denied as it maintains a slow, even pace. Rhys settles for arching back, his ass displayed obscenely as he grinds his hips back against the tentacle fucking into him hard and fast.

 

A thick palm spreads between Rhys’s shoulder blades and it takes about five seconds for Rhys to register that Jack is standing in front of him, his leaking prick just inches from Rhys’s face. The younger man drops his mouth open, obeying the wordless command. Jack’s hand slides up to tangle in Rhys’s hair, stilling the cyborg’s head as he arches his hips forward, pressing into the welcome heat of Rhys’s mouth.

 

Jack groans thickly, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest as he rocks his hips forward, carefully pushing himself further past Rhys’s lips. The younger man hollows his cheeks, sucking firmly and laving his tongue along the underside of Jack’s dick, pulling forth a string of colorful profanities that Rhys makes a note to be smug about later.

 

A particularly firm thrust forces Rhys down onto Jack’s cock, momentarily gagging and choking the younger man before he adjusts to the stretch and pressure, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. Jack doesn't complain, merely moans loudly in the small room and cants his hips forward just slightly, his fingers trailing gently through Rhys’s hair.

 

He withdraws slowly, giving Rhys room to breathe before he’s once again thrusting lazily into the greedy mouth. Jack stills when he notices a strange pulsating from the tentacle sheathed in Rhys. A series of spherical bulges make their way up the appendage, pushing insistently at Rhys’s ass until the man’s needy moaning is practically a yell.

 

Jack pulls from Rhys’s mouth and kneels in front of him, cupping the younger man’s face in his hands and pressing gently kisses to the corners of his mouth and up his jaw. He hushes and whispers gently, smoothing back Rhys’s hair and stroking down his back soothingly as tears rolled down Rhys’s cheeks, his moaning giving way to practically needy sobs as the spheres themselves inside him, pressing unnaturally at his insides.

 

One hand curled comfortingly in Rhys’s hair, his lips pressed to the younger man’s forehead, Jack wraps his other hand around his own cock again, slick with pre-cum and Rhys’s spit, and strokes himself to completion, growling out deeply as he nuzzles against Rhys’s hairline. With the tentacle stroking insistently at Rhys’s own dick, it isn’t long before he’s cumming on the inside the crate despite the rising panic.

 

By the time Jack is finished the tentacles have withdrawn, leaving Rhys slumped helplessly against the lip of the crate, panting out broken sobs. Jack pulls him close, strong arms snaking into the container to shift Rhys and hook under his knees and around his back to pull the young man free. He’s more than a little surprised to see Rhys’s stomach, swollen and vaguely misshapen.

 

Rhys whimpers softly as Jack lowers him to the ground, keeping him upright with an arm around his shoulders. He strokes at Rhys’s cheek, wiping and kissing away stray tears as he murmurs softly until the man is able to speak again.

 

“J-Jack? Wh-what j-just happened,” he keens, voice absolutely wrecked in the best way possible. Jack smiles in what could almost be mistaken for a warm manner. Rhys knows better.

 

“Well, kiddo, to put it bluntly. You’re gonna be a mom.”

 

Rhys’s prosthetic fist lands squarely on Jack’s nose before he can even see it coming.


	2. II

It’s a week later when Jack has his arms wrapped around Rhys’s shoulders, caging the young man in a veritable bear hug, while he screams into Jack’s neck. Rhys is clutching desperately at Jack’s vest, his own pants down around his ankles and soaked in a viscous fluid that drips steadily from Rhys’s ass.

 

The eggs would have to come out somehow, but Rhys had tried his damn hardest not to think about that at length. He hadn’t realized he’d have so little time to do his ignoring. So here he was, clinging to Handsome Jack like his life depended upon it while the offending objects tried to force themselves out the same way they had entered.

 

Rhys chokes on a sob, hiccupping softly as he buries his face against Jack’s neck. The man strokes along his back, doing his best to comfort his partner, though he couldn’t deny he was wholly fascinated with the process taking place.

 

The eggs force themselves free of Rhys’s stomach, ass dripping obscenely as each one rolled to the floor until six of the perfect spheres lie in a puddle between Rhys’s legs. Jack can’t help but grin.

 

“N-no more p-pet projects,” Rhys gasps, slumping bonelessly against Jack. The CEO chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to Rhys’s hair. He could live with that for now.


End file.
